Anastasios
by Fanficworm
Summary: [Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas] A few years after Proteus is presumed lost at sea, Dymas is suffering the pains of old age. It seems Syracuse has no rightful heir to the throne, but Sinbad finds Proteus might not be dead after all...
1. Prologue: Glorious Chaos

**Disclaimer: **_Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas_ belongs to its respective owners. Nothing in this belongs to me except the stuff I make up.

**Author's Note**: Man, all these ship terms are hard to learn. Apologies for inaccuracies and the leaps of logic. Will amend them ASAP. Oh, and _anastasios_ is apparently Greek for _resurrection_, for those who wanna know (not sure about this, though). This is a new fandom for me. Corrections are encouraged, as are reviews.Please no flames, though. Big thanks to my friend Angelie for her role as a fellow conspirator and consultant for this story. Bet she'll hate me for this later. o

* * *

**Anastasios**

_By Fanficworm_

Prologue: Glorious Chaos

* * *

The velvety fabric of space shimmered in the ethereal dome of infinity. Creatures made from diamond-like stars snapped and growled impatiently from their posts on the fabric as celestial fixtures, awaiting an opportunity to do something fun as they regarded the globe before them. A charcoal violet puff of smoke materialised in the room's centre, and they suddenly ceased movement in a mixture of respect, relief and fear. The puff of smoke reformed, first slowly and then faster, into the larger-than-life form of a very familiar person. And when the form's trademark black hair and flowing purple dress took shape, the globe itself before which she stood seemed to shrink back in apprehension. Eris, the goddess of chaos, had descended. 

"Another day, another adventure," she said, grinning at the endless possibility for chaos that was the earth. With a flick of a finger she sent up into an unsuspecting boat a deadly wave. Her grin became a low bark of a laugh as she rejoiced in the loss of lives. "Another chance to wreak havoc upon the world." Upon closer examination of the new disaster she caused she found a woman being separated from her lover in all the commotion. Neither of them seemed too happy about it, screaming and crying as her little hand slipped away from his and she was forever lost to the mercy of the sea. Except the sea wasn't going to be showing any mercy, was it? Eris grinned. She would personally make sure of that. "Chaos," she purred. "Glorious chaos."

She stood back and admired her handiwork from days gone by. Wars, famines, racism, sexism and some deep-seated political tension. The world was going mad, and it was all because of her. She scanned the surface of the globe, not unlike a predator hungrily seeking prey. "What else can I do here? What more can I corrupt and taint and destroy and curse with some much-needed misery?" No sooner did she begin asking herself these questions did she spot it on the other side of the globe, much like she spotted it before those few years ago. There, in the open sea on its way back home, sailed a ship from Syracuse bearing the royal motif, and on that ship stood the crown prince of Syracuse himself. He stood there in that annoying happy look of his, admiring the view from the deck, his brown ponytail fluttering in the wind and his royal lips slightly curled upward in a dreamy smile as his stately black clothes swayed with the gentle sea breeze. "Ah," Eris said, smiling herself again. "Prince Proteus of Syracuse. Our paths cross again."

Cetus drifted from his post on the dome wall, seeking permission to again attack the ship. His tentacles twitched with impatience in the gossamer blackness as he awaited her orders, the stars making up his basic form shimmering like adamant with his movements. "No, Cetus. Not now." Eris batted him away, studying the prince all too closely now. "I have different plans for him this time around." Ignoring Cetus's sulking retreat to his position, she gleefully clapped her hands together to create some deafening thunder. Twirling her divine finger around in the now-darkening clouds in Proteus's vicinity, she turned her attention to him. "You may have done well before, little man, but let's see how you handle things without your friend Sinbad to save you."

The grin playing upon her lips widened ever so slightly. "Something tells me this is going to be a bit more interesting than our last little encounter."

* * *

Royal blue eyes shifted their focus from the ever-moving horizon to the suspiciously dimming sky overhead as a clap of thunder bellowed in the air. They narrowed in outright confusion, as just a few minutes ago the sky was alight and clear with the morning sun. Proteus frowned as he studied the clouds above his royal person. "Strange" was all he could manage to say of the whole thing, especially as rain that seemingly appeared out of nowhere began pelting mercilessly at the ship. A vicious wind howled around the woodwork and driving rain already formed puddles underfoot. 

"Prince Proteus!" Tycho, a crewman, called from the fore topgallant mast. "Prince Proteus, you'll have to go inside! This storm's just going to get worse!"

"That's impossible!" he answered, still more confused than anything. "Storms can't come up this fast!" As if to undermine his point the rain poured harder on their backs, getting very close to giving them some painful bruising.

Through the thick veil of water threatening to overcome him and the brown hair clinging to his face, Proteus could make out Tycho looking up and studying the clouds as Proteus had before. "Tell that to the gods!"

The gods. Of course. Proteus had yet to forget Eris's last attempt to have him murdered. Sinbad literally saved his neck more than once that time, but to Proteus's ultimate misfortune Sinbad was sadly absent, probably off on some adventure with Marina in tow. Proteus's frown deepened and the infant wrinkles between his brows furrowed slightly deeper. He started towards his cabin when something prompted him to stop. A sharp metallic taste registered in his senses and the force of the rain lessened substantially, and Proteus stiffened in alarm. He willed his legs to move, but they took their sweet time.

Behind him came a deafening crash and the smell of burning wood, and instantly his fears were confirmed: the ship was struck by lightning. He turned and headed back, hoping to help those hurt by the crash. Before him now the peaceful blue of the sails slowly darkened to an ominous black before disintegrating and finally disappearing. Nothing the strangely powerful rain did could stop it. Some of the masts, formerly proud and tall, bent over double, ravaged by fire. The main mast in particular was the most affected, the flaming main topsail yard coming dangerously close to snapping off and impaling the guard beneath it, who seemed to be trapped by a fallen sail. Proteus had to do something. Throwing logic and caution into the wind he ran towards the direction of the fire to help the poor guard, ignoring Tycho's screams of protest from the as-of-yet unharmed fore topgallant mast.

What seemed an eternity later, Proteus reached the trapped guard only to find him laying on the ground motionless, deathly pale, eyes wide open and mouth agape in horror. Proteus shiverred, not just because he was soaked to the skin. "Died from the shock," he whispered. No one deserved a death like-

_Snap!_

"PRINCE PROTEUS, LOOK OUT!"

Proteus looked up too late to see the flaming yard, released from its support, shooting his way. His royal blue eyes widened, mirroring the widened eyes of the dead guard, before the yard struck him with its full force on the head and thrust him into the raging sea. A crash into the tempestuous waves, and then saltwater and pain assaulted his senses, and clutching to his remaining consciousness Proteus struggled to get his head above the foamy water to hold on to something buoyant. He took hold of the thing nearest to him: the very yard that hit him just a few moments ago, blackened by the fire and still searing hot to the touch. Unaware or simply uncaring of the scorching heat and pain it gave him when he touched it, he held on tight. And as he smelt the flesh on his face and arms slowly burning, his handsome eyes closed for what could be the last time, and the world turned black.

_

* * *

_

_Later, in another part of the sea..._

Lycou, true to his nickname of "Wolf", yawned something fierce that almost sounded like a wolf howl. He stretched out lazily on the termite-ridden crow's nest, keeping an eye out for Kratos or that crony of his Kleitos - they hated it when he stretched out on his post; said crap about it being "lazy" - or anything important he'd have to report. Though it didn't look like there was much to look at these days. Miles and miles of open sea and they'd only come across one ship to rob so far: a beat-up old thing that looked like it came from Syracuse. Sure, it had the royal emblems and all that stuff, but they had nothing of any real value for thieving pirates. Turned out they lost a lot during that freak storm a few days ago, including their entire main mast and their crown prince. Lycou smiled, exposing a his impressive canines as he did so. They didn't lose enough, though. The score he and the guys got from those highborns wasn't exactly good for retirement, but it was enough for now. Lucky thing Kratos was in a good mood that day or those highborn snobs who survived the storm would've been finished off. He chuckled to himself and looked out over the horizon. Yep, nothing whatsoever to look a-

He stopped in mid thought and sprung out of his relaxed position. Was that... a body holding on to a piece of driftwood? He leaned in closer to take a better look, almost toppling out of his spot as he did so. It... It was! And the guy looked alive! Better yet, he looked rich despite the fact his clothes were torn and roughed up a bit. _Rich_. Lycou's smile widened. If he'd known his wishes were coming true then maybe he should've been a bit more specific about what interesting thing to spot from the crow's nest. A great horde of gold was something that came to mind, a very attractive woman was another. He shouted down to the person nearest the floater. "THERON! HEY, THERON! LOOK OVER THE STARBOARD BOW! YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHAT IT IS!"


	2. Chapter 1: In Remembrance

**Author's note:** Disclaimer in the prologue. Again, corrections and constructive criticism encouraged (and reviews in general! Let's not forget reviews in general!). I happily lay claim to Tee, Gelasia, Thanos and Canace, and Lycou and co. (except Drakon, as you'll probably figure out) are sadly mine.

* * *

**  


Anastasios

  
**_  


By Fanficworm

  
_  


Chapter 1: In Remembrance  


* * *

Three Years Later

Sinbad, legendary ex-pirate and scourge of the seven seas, saviour of the Book of Peace and all round good guy, slept fitfully as day's first light crept into his room. What started as a peaceful night of rest became a morning of nightmares as Sinbad could only watch the all-too-familiar nightmare playing in his mind... over... and over... and over... Every time he tried to tear his mind's eye away, to make it all stop, something unseen, something he couldn't explain, forced him to look. Even worse, it forced him to stay asleep until he couldn't take it anymore. Sometimes he thought Morpheus himself willed it. He continued watching the nightmare, still not surrendering on trying to wake up as he tossed and turned.

"PRINCE PROTEUS, LOOK OUT!"

Time seemed to slow then, just as it always did in this part of the dream, allowing Sinbad to fully experience the utter horror of Proteus's final moments. The strangled gasp escaping his lips as his face paled and the hairs behind his neck stood to attention. And finally came the yard catching him out where other more threatening foes never could, where nothing never should. It rammed his head and brought him with it into the sea's foamy rage. Proteus thrashed around trying to stay afloat and grabbed the very thing that killed him to save his own life. Surrendering himself at last to his fate, his eyes closed and he breathed his last.

With her distinctive throaty chuckle Eris materialised onto the scene, her supernal black hair and mauve dress flowing serenely despite the raging storm. She beamed at the still form of Proteus still floating around in the ocean and drifting very far from his ship. She blew him a kiss and chuckled again. "Oh, this was just too easy. Why didn't I think of it before?" And then she turned her attention to Sinbad, as if she knew this was his dream. Glancing sidelong at him she purred, "I guess I have you to thank here, Sinbad." She raised her eyebrows. "If you were here, you could've saved him."

"I knew there was a reason I liked you." Her form slowly dissolved into a cloud of smoke, and as she began to disappear again came the throaty laugh. "Thanks for my new trophy."

And the cloud of smoke vanished into thin air.

* * *

Sinbad awoke from his dream with a start. The cold sweat that issued from his pores began to dry and cake on his skin and unknowingly he had allowed his breathing to become erratic. He took a few very deep breaths in a conscious effort to calm himself down. Changing into his normal clothes, he tried to remember. Remember what Marina told him. Good air in, bad air out. Good air in... bad air out. He growled. It wasn't working. It never worked. 

"Dammit!" He punched his cabin wall, taking a little pleasure in the impressive _thump_.

He sighed and headed up above deck. Maybe a little sea breeze could get some sense back into him. Yeah, that was it; a little sea breeze. He quickened his steps up the companionway and breathed the fresh morning air of the Mediterranean Sea. "Ah," he said. "This is more like it. Nothing like the smell of the sea in the morning."

Jin and Li passed him by, saying a quick "morning, sir" before flashing each other a knowing look. Sinbad raised an eyebrow as Jin whispered to Li something about the lines of, "Pay up. He had that dream again."

"He did _not_ have that dream."

"He did so. He always has that lost look when he has that dream."

"That 'lost look' could've been about anything! Maybe he lost his underwear again!"

Sinbad greeted them back and shook his head as they resumed their normal duties, still arguing over whether or not Li had lost the bet. Dear gods, sometimes Sinbad thought those two would bet who'd die first if that resulted in any money.

"Sinbad!" Kale called from the helm. "Any orders?"

"All sails to Syracuse, and don't get us killed."

Kale rolled his eyes. "Aye, Captain."

"Morning, Captain!" Rat plopped down seemingly from out of nowhere. He grinned at Sinbad through yellowed teeth, but suspended upside down on a rope, it looked a bit weird. "Do you know where the lovely signorina is this morning? I do not, and going just one morning without seeing her gentle beauty makes my heart feel as if it would burst into a thousand pieces!" At this he clutched at his heart with a melodramatic flourish, causing him to tumble from the rope onto the unforgiving wooden deck. Dusting himself off Sinbad noted he still smiled. "So, have you seen her?"

Sinbad shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. You know how Marina can be someti - "

Something small and about half Sinbad's size brushed past him and hugged him from behind for some sort of protection. A young voice shrieked with formidable force despite being muffled by Sinbad's body, its vibrations almost tickling Sinbad back. "I'M NOT GONNA! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!"

Sinbad turned to look at the young boy hugging his back in what looked like both defiance and fear. "Tee, what in the name of the gods do you think you're doing?"

"THERE YOU ARE!" Marina, in all her "gentle beauty" shouted from the helm, eyes bulging with exasperation and knuckles whitening dangerously as the grip on a bunch of clothes tightened. Unusually fancy clothes swaying with every step, she stormed over to the guilty clutcher of backs. That would've turned Sinbad on if her weren't so scared. As if catching herself losing control, she stopped awhile to gather her composure, what was left of it anyway. A few short breaths later, she pleaded with Sinbad just short of saying it through gritted teeth. "Sinbad," she said. "_Please_ reason with your son. Dymas's palace is no place to wear sailor clothes."

"Ah, signorina!" Rat cried before Sinbad could do anything. "My heart's blossom! My one true joy and inspiration! I was so afraid I would not see you today! I - "

Whap!

"Not now, Rat!"

One of Tee's shoes mysteriously shot into Rat's mouth, and Marina's hand mysteriously carried only one shoe instead of formerly two. Marina glared, and Rat promptly spit out the shoe and handed it back to her with the utmost grace and courtesy he was capable of (which, they all knew, wasn't really that much to begin with). "Ah, the signorina throws with such passion! Such" Taking one look at the family, Rat smiled and climbed back onto his rope. "Ah. I see." Making his way up to survey the sails he called back, "We will speak later, then, signorina!"

Sinbad looked closer at the clothes in Marina's white-knuckled death grip. They _did_ look pretty fancy. Those must've been the clothes she got from trading with the Athenians. So _this_ was what all the fear was all about! He put on his best "father" voice and twisted around to scold his son. "Tee, listen to your mother."

He shook his head. "No! I've worn sailor clothes there before!"

Marina growled. "Tee..."

Another shake of the head. "No, Mom! I won't!"

"Tee, it's King Dymas's birthday! Don't you wanna look nice?"

"No! I don't wanna wear the stupid clothes!"

Sinbad watched on helplessly as the two argued, as they so often did these days. To think Tee wasn't even a teenager yet. His head darted back and forth as the two exchanged verbal blows. Unfortunately Tee inherited his mother's hotheadedness and word skills. Sinbad grimaced, head still bouncing back and forth in a pretty unflattering way. Somehow he thought he preferred to be still in bed having the nightmare.

"... and I'll TELL you why you should, young man! Because he won't like it and he'll be mad!"

"He won't! I've worn sailor clothes there before and he didn't mind!"

"What about all the others, then? The officials? The nobility? The ambassadors? The royalty? The - "

"UNCLE PROTEUS DIDN'T MIND!" Tee finally bellowed, his face now thrust out defiantly to meet his mother's. Both faced each other off with equal intensity, nostrils flared, faces reddening and voices growing hoarse, but the last sentence struck something in the both of themin the _three_ of them. A dead silence fell across the three, as painful memories wriggled their way back into their psyches, emerging from what they thought was the dead and making them pay for not killing them before. Tee's anger slowly trickled off until he begrudgingly took the clothes and trudged off to change, ignoring the stares and murmurings of the crew. A whisper, and a gold coin furtively passed hands from Jin to Li.

Sinbad cleared his throat, and the men went back to work. He slicked back his hair and straightened out his clothes. "Great," he said, and headed up to the helm to take charge, "We got him to put on the clothes, we did it without violence and we did it as a team." He took the helm and slapped on a smile. "Excellent parenting today."

"I suppose..." She followed him up. "Sinbad." She sighed. "Sinbad, you know this is the first time we went back to Syracuse since..."

Sinbad held up a hand, not taking his eyes off the island so near yet so far away. The smiling facade wavered and finally dropped. He knew what she was going to say. He understood. "I know."

"And... are you sure you're all right with this? You've never wanted to talk about it and I wondered if you'd really"

"I'm fine."

He felt her take a step closer, sensed her try to literally reach out to him to get him to open up. "Sinbad..."

"I'm _fine_."

"Well." She made her way down to check up on Tee. "If you say so. Make sure Dymas's wine is ready by the time we get there."

Sinbad continued looking out at the horizon, focussing on the little island that they would get to in a few minutes' time. Syracuse. He struggled to keep his face neutral. Syracuse, his former home, the place of some of his best times... and his worst. The place where he first met Proteus and then later first saw Marina. The place where Tee was born, and where he and Marina announced that their son would be named after Proteus, in honour of his former best friend and the man who gave him the opportunity to clear his name and save the Book of Peace. Proteus was so touched then. He tried to hide it from his wife and his father and everyone else there, but he was. He and Sinbad shared manly punches on the shoulder after the announcement, looking as macho as the occasion called for, when Marina forced them into a hug. Both "manly men" reluctantly embraced much to everyone's amusement, and joined in with the laughter. It would be the first of many more happy visits.

They came more often as Tee grew older. The boy loved his namesake, his "Uncle Proteus"; he talked about him whenever the subject came up, and sometimes when it didn't. The two were close, even though Sinbad's seafaring adventures meant they couldn't see each other as often as they wanted. So it happened that on some of their shorter or more dangerous adventures Sinbad would leave him awhile in Syracuse. Tee never liked leaving. Proteus never liked seeing him leave, either.

Some had thought he was beginning to think of the boy as something of a son, which Dymas more than just frowned on. He nagged at Proteus to produce an heir. A male one. A daughter was good - gods knew Dymas would've utterly spoilt Gelasia if it wasn't for Proteus's and Canace's influence - but there needed to be a male successor in order for the monarchy to continue the way it was. At long last a son came: Thanos, but the joy was short-lived. After Thanos died of illness only a few days after his birth, Proteus gave up on more children. When the issue of male heirs came up, a piece of Syracuse's eldest prince died inside. With a shrug and a ghost smile he always said there was time. There was always time.

Turned out he didn't have enough.

The bustle of activity in the harbour caught Sinbad's attention and removed him from the darker thoughts. He eyed the approaching isle and let out a low whistle. "Well, would you look at that." Boats and other vessels lined the pristine waters and floated amiably before the palace, the docks virtually swelling with men and messengers bearing gifts and tributes for the king's birthday. He'd forgotten how big a fuss people made over old Dymas sometimes. And soon Sinbad would be joining them in the fussmaking. He smirked. Maybe he should've gotten something a little more light than a few barrels of Roman wine. "Hope Dymas still likes his grog."

The startings of a crowd stirred and murmured to get a look at the famous rescuer of the Book of Peace. Activity in the crowded harbour all but stopped as the _Chimera_ sailed in, as the leanings and chatter increased.

" - t_old_ you he was real!"

" - heard he faced off Eris herself and then she - "

" - bet he brought something good for the - "

" - never thought he came around any - "

" - said he was dead!"

Sinbad eyed them, a knowing look in his eyes. Ah, the fans. No matter how many times he'd gone to Syracuse, the crowds always seemed to appear. And the guys never seemed able to control themselves when the female fans arrived. "Kale!"

"On it!" He called to the rest of the crew. "Okay guys, you know the drill! Get the _Chimera _ready for docking! Remember, all contact with the crowds is strictly minimal! No exceptions! And Rat!"

Rat swung overhead to attend to a sail. "I know! No bringing in strange women again!"

Sinbad nodded. "Good. Now that we've got that sorted..." He manoeuvred the ship as only he could, narrowly avoiding the boats and ships that made up the mass of floating transport. Back in the day, it would've been a great robbing opportunity, but he tried to resist the familiar thief impulses rising up again in him. Someone needed to set an example for the men. Besides, they were only there for a short period of time. A few days, tops. Not too long, meaning nothing interesting would happen in their stay.

Right?

* * *

The Harbour of Syracuse, A Few Hours Later

"So." Drakon leaned against the fore topmast, pure boredom radiating even from the scarred half of his face as he contemplated the approaching city, scratching at an annoying itch on his back. He eyed Lycou, brown eyebrow raised and a smirk playing on his lips. "King Dymas's birthday, huh?"

Lycou yawned that little wolf howl of his again and looked out at the filled harbour. Drakon could sense the naked greed just oozing out of the man's greasy pores. "Yep." He turned back to Drakon, grinning. "Can you imagine the score we'll get out of this one? It might be enough to retire with!"

Drakon shrugged. "Whatever gets Kratos off our backs."

Lycou, for once, actually looked a little thoughtful. He turned his sights from the palace to a tower nearby. A light shone from the tower's top level, but it didn't seem natural. Blue it was, almost white even. Looked nothing like fire. Nothing that man could make, nothing that Drakon had ever seen... or maybe ever remembered seeing. Lycou broke the silence, "Why don't we try get that Book of Peace thing everyone's always making such a big fuss about? Bet it's worth more than all of Dymas's gifts put together."

"It is." Drakon studied his fingernails. Too long again. At that rate he was going to look like a woman. Bad enough his face was thin and angular and all too pretty... well, the section not looking like it was overcooked in some weird oven, anyway. "The Book would be too hard to get to, though. There are guards on every level, and if you look up to the - "

"ALL HAND GET READY TO DOCK!" Kleitos strutted on deck in that effeminate way of his. When Drakon was first found by the crew, he was nameless, burnt, half dead and suffering from amnesia. He thought it funny the way Kleitos strutted around and talked weird, but now he knew better than to laugh, tempting though it was. Everyone knew it was dangerous to mock him or Kratos. Everyone also knew the two were hot for each other. What they didn't know was why they insisted on hiding it. Rumour went they liked the "danger of being caught" and all that crap. Queers.

Drakon and Lycou set to work. Well, started on it, anyway. Just before he disappeared down the mast, Lycou popped his head up and gave Drakon a look. "Drak?"

"Yeah?"

Lycou's frown deepened. "How'd you know about the tower?"

"LYCOU! DRAKON! GET TO WORK!"

Drakon shrugged, ignoring Kleitos for a moment. "Didn't you tell me about it?"

"No, we've never even mentioned Syracuse to you, not before planning this heist, anyway. And you've never come with us there."

"Oh." Now it was Drakon's turn to frown. "Well then - "

"**NOW**, LYCOU AND DRAKON!"

Theron called up from directly below them. "Hey guys, Kleitos looks really pissed today. You mind?"

The two nodded and got to work. Drakon looked at Lycou one last time and finished answering the question. "Well then, I guess I don't know."

Lycou shrugged and descended down the mast, the earlier conversation forgotten. Drakon, however, found it a little harder to dismiss than that. Lycou had a point. They'd never really discussed Syracuse before and he'd never even been there- not with them; not to his recollection, anyway.

And how exactly _did_ he know about the tower?


	3. Chapter 2: Unexpected Company

**Author's Note: **A nod to the great Captain John Moresby here, with the official naming of the _Basilisk_ for Kratos's ship. (Yay!) This is one long chapter, possibly one of the longest postings I've ever done on so far, so hopefully it'll make up for my months of not updating. Hopefully it'll also make up for the next few months of no updating. Sincerest apologies to the very few people who actually read this story. Exam revisions and all that school crap for three different curricula (PNG, ACT and the bane of my existence, the International General Certificate of Secondary Education, or IGCSE, of which in a lapse of sanity I decided to take for _seven_ subjects) take up a lot of a mere Grade Ten student's time. Oh, and Drakon and Lycou are just friends! I've planned no slash in this story, and as far as I'm concerned, the only romance will be between Sinbad and Marina... and maybe Drakon/Proteus and Canace …Just so you know.

Oh, and if you see weird hyperlink-like things on the text, trust me, they're not meant to be here and I've tried to weed them out but they just refuse to die. Any help on how to get rid of them would be greatly appreciated. Oh, and can anyone tell me how to put in asterisks? They won't show up, so I resort to putting in O's.

* * *

**Anastasios  
**_by Fanficworm  
_

Chapter Two: Unexpected Company

* * *

"Maybe we should've called you Narcissus when we found you."

Drakon glared at him through the eyeholes in his leather mask. "'What?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Lycou tugged at the mask's strings. "Drakon, thy name is vanity. You must've gotten that attitude back when you were a noble. I mean, they're all a bit..." He pulled a face, looked up to the wispy starlit sky overhead, searched for a suitable word, frowned again once he actually did find it. "Nar-cis-sis-tic. That's the word for it, innit?" He flashed a grin at Drakon. "Next thing you know we'll find you've fallen in love with your reflection and got yourself drowned in the ship's water supply."

Nikias sighed dreamily beside him. "One can only wish he would. Then we wouldn't have to listen to that damn accent of his anymore. Seriously, what are you? Nobility or somethin'?"

To which Drakon answered with a most eloquent grunt and a few choice gestures, which pretty much served to amuse the guys even more.

"Wolf's got a point, you know." Theron grinned, stretching out his legs. "What self-respecting pirate wears a mask to every heist, Drak?"

Drakon made sure the mask strings and knots stayed nice and taut. "Probably one with a face only a mother could love. Or one who doesn't want to get recognised. You can never be sure. People might know me here. Judging from what a resurfaced memory I had earlier, Syracuse might well have been somewhere I visited." Or, he added inwardly, even worse, his "real" home.

"And it looked like I knew something most other people wouldn't, which could mean I used to be some person with access to privileged information. Someone important, most likely. Someone easily recognised." He frowned under the mask, his breath condensing on the leather and making it almost unbearably humid. "I'm not sure if I want to return to whatever coroneted - "

" Ooh, coro_neted_," Nikias grinned. "_Big_ word. That come with your old territory?"

" - to whatever _high and mighty_ life I used to lead," he finished. "Those nobles're screw-ups just waiting to happen. From what you all told me, I used to be part of the peerage - someone from _Syracuse_, no less - and look how I ended up: a half-burnt, half-starved, half-sane pirate working for a meagre - "

"Ooh, _meagre_!"

"- a _poor_ living on a dilapidated - "

"Ooh, dil_a_ - dilapid - !"

"DAMMIT, NIKIAS!"

Nikias beamed.

Drakon growled, inhaled, exhaled, calmed himself. " - _run-down _excuse for a ship."

"Where the cat eats better than the crew does," Lycou snorted.

"Besides," Drakon smirked at the others, doing one last check on the strings, "the mask helps scare anyone who might come over to... watch."

Aetos sneered at Theron. "Touché." Theron gracefully replied by punching him on the shoulder.

"Ahem."

The men looked up to see Kleitos glaring at them, the moonlight coming from behind him making him look like a crossdresser on opium. His brown hair, almost black in the darkness, swayed back and forth in a most unsettling manner while the locks around his face chose instead to cling for dear life at the mass of sweat and grime he dared to call a head. Expression contorted into a mild scowl, he stared down the four loafers. "If you ladies would care to take some time in your _busy_ schedule to stop your idle gossip, you might remember we have a palace to rob and a short time to do it. Dymas's gifts won't wait and cover of night won't last too long."

They grumbled in reply and readied their weapons. Someone mumbled something that sounded a lot like "Look who's the lady, lady" before jumping off the _Basilisk_ onto the docks. For some reason, Kleitos chose not to pay it any attention, where before he would've squealed that to Kratos. Behind his mask, Drakon grimaced. Either Kratos's and Kleitos's relationship was on the rocks or they'd just been having a little too much fun lately.

He didn't want to dwell on it.

He jumped onto the docks. The wooden boardwalk felt... familiar, its smells and texture evoking in him some sort of homesickness as he trod it. Underneath the mask his grimace twisted into a glower as he could feel the frown lines beginning to form on his forehead deepening a fraction more. An image came to him then, of standing on the same boardwalk in what seemed a past life, looking out into the harbour and seeing... seeing -

Lycou's hand landed on his shoulder. "Narcissus. Now ain't the time to zone out."

Aetos pulled on a final piece of his servant's disguise, smoothed back his tumble of curls. "Yeah, Drak. Can't you hear Dymas's treasure calling us?"

Drakon snapped out of it and forced a smile into his voice. "Course I can. It says to hurry up before the old fossil gets to them."

The three grinned and set off on their way to the palace, working together on recon as always. The others always liked knocking out guards and doing the grunt work, but the three of them were always rather gifted at pilfering for reasons unknown even to them. There was a real art to taking something that wasn't ever yours and then claiming it as your own, an art that the others never seemed to understand, save that it should've served useful in getting ever more loot.

But now, with Dymas's birthday gifts (which, they reasoned, that grumpy curmudgeon didn't need or deserve anyway) they wouldn't have to worry about money anymore. They all imagined it several times during their time onboard the _Basilisk_, if not openly sharing their waking daydreams with the other members of the crew, then hiding their hopes for a future on land in some secret crevice in the further reaches of their hearts. With Dymas's treasure, this very possible last score that would send them into retirement if they played their cards right, they wouldn't have to worry about the law catching up on them anymore, or worry about where to get their next meal _if_ they could get one. Even the nagging little thought in the backs of their minds that they could very well lose their lives at any time (either by their own hand or the hand of another), would disappear once they were freed of their floating prison. And frankly, they couldn't wait. Kratos and Kleitos included.

Drakon smiled at the palace and the riches it promised. This _may_ have been their final heist together, but it would be the first time they would be robbing a king, a decrepit old greybeard who never did get over his only brat's death. This would be their... he searched for the word. Their maiden voyage.

That was it. Their maiden voyage.

* * *

If anything, Dymas still knew how to throw a hell of a party. Sinbad pretended to take a sip of his wine as he scanned the crowd, looking with a little contempt at the crowd of bluebloods milling around and putting on airs. Menolians once again confused the ageing Dymas to no end with their weird gestures, Jed still surrendered his weapons to the guards after a grand total of fifteen minutes, Marina barely stopped Spike and Rat from devouring the entire buffet table (table included), Tee (still looking very uncomfortable in the fancy clothing Marina forced him to wear) played with Gelasia much to the annoyance of some of the more puritanical guests, and the titled men acted like women while the women of different cultures tittle-tattled about nothing of any real importance. In the meanwhile servants carried the gifts presented to Dymas earlier to some safe place, pure temptation in their eyes as they eyed the pricey treasures, and guards of different provinces swapped stories of bravado, their faces glowing pink with the ever flowing wine. To think Sinbad now more or less fit into this palace crowd. No crashing the party this time; no this time they _invited_ him. And he _behaved_. He was getting too tame for his own good. 

He scowled. "Marina." It had to be because of Marina. He knew there must've been a catch when he married that woman. He took a good gulp of his wine. Well, he wasn't going to end up like them. And neither would Tee, or any other kids they might have in the years to come. No way, he vowed to himself. Absolutely no way.

He headed out to the balcony, where all stayed quiet amidst the din. Moonlight spilled out languidly on Syracuse, giving the already beautiful city a sort of dreamlike quality, while the Book of Peace glowed with a gentle blue light from the safety of its tower not that far away. It all looked so damn pretty. Made him wonder why on earth Marina left this of her own will to join him and his seafaring ways. Luca said Marina left all that pomp because she was a few sails short of a ship. Sinbad shrugged then. There wasn't much arguing with that.

* * *

"Report." 

Drakon wiped the sweat from the burnt half of his face. "Guards on the perimeter of what you say's the treasure room. Thirty of 'em in total. The gifts are in there, among other things, like you said."

Dark eyebrows shot upwards, creasing the prominent forehead with numerous lines. He leaned forward somewhat, a curl on his upper lip. "You doubt my information?"

"Course not, Sir. Just... Inside info from bribed servants and all. You can never be sure."

A grunt. "Keep going."

Aetos removed the last of the servant's clothing he stole then wore for the reconnaissance mission, mussed up his slicked-back hair to its original state. Hesiod looked at the clothing those poor servants had to wear and laughed, both at the clothes, and at the thought of Aetos wearing them. "Two entrances, one inside the palace, the other outside. Security's tighter on the outer entrance for obvious reasons, but it should be easier to get in through there once we get the guards outta the way."

"Three," Drakon said.

Aetos looked at him. "What?"

"There's three ways into there." He pulled the mask back over his face. "Servant's entrance from the side, for maintenance. It's hidden near the gems so it won't clash with the decor. No guards there, 'cause only the most trusted servants know about it." He tied the mask strings into secure little knots. "It's the easiest way to get in there. Trust me."

Kratos narrowed his eyes. "And you know this... how? Ain't often anyone can spot what Aetos can't, least of all you. 'Specially since even Kleitos and I don't know that kind of info."

Behind his mask, Drakon seemed to think, search. "I - "

"He's seeing things again, Cap'n," Aetos leered. "Remember those little flashes he had of Eris conspiring to kill him?"

"Hmm." Kratos deliberated awhile, then looked up at the crew of the _Basilisk_. "Men, we're getting in through the outer entrance. Drakon, Wolf, Nikias, Theron, Kleitos, you handle the guards on the outside. _Quietly_." At this he stared hard at Lycou, before he turned his attention back to the men. "Iason, Sophos, Hesiod, and I are on the inside. We'll have to go undercover for a while." At this Aetos shoved his servant's disguise to Hesiod, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Aetos, you're lookout."

"Aye, Cap'n." He raised a hand in mock salute.

"The rest of you wait in the shadows for the signal."

The men nodded and assembled into their assigned groups, nothing much passing through their lips than slight mumbles and grunts of acknowledgement.

Kratos eyed them. "Might as well look a little more cheerful about this, men. If we pull this off it could be our last job. After this, we retire in the tropics," He beamed. "And if we're lucky, most of us'll never have to see each other again."

The rowdy sound of men rejoicing filled the night air.

* * *

"Ah, Sinbad! There you are! I had begun to wonder if you'd reverted back to your old pirate ways and began robbing my guests." King Dymas hobbled to join him on the balcony, his fancy walking stick clicking on the stone floor and his face alight with a little relief. Sinbad tried to help him out in his walking to get him wherever he wanted faster, but the old man wouldn't have any of it. Dymas batted him off. "Oh, stop that. You know full well by now that I am perfectly capable of walking by myself. I am _not_ an invalid." 

Sinbad scratched his head, messing up his hat and his specially styled hair that Marina insisted look "civilised even for you". "Honest mistake, Dymas. Sorry about that. In my defence, it's been a while since I came back here."

Dymas waved it off. "Ah, don't blame yourself. The ravages of old age tend to make one act about as badly as one looks."

Sinbad smiled. "You don't look that bad."

"Sinbad," Dymas said, "they call me Dymas the Dreary."

Sinbad winced, a smile in his voice. "Ooh, that's gotta hurt." He raised his half-empty goblet. "Well. To a happy birthday, then. What's left of it, anyway."

Dymas, a wine goblet not at hand, chose to raise an imaginary glass instead. "Cheers."

"Cheers."

Sinbad took another gulp of his wine while Dymas hobbled- "unaided!" - to the banister. The old king leaned on his walking stick as his faded blue eyes focussed outwards, towards the city. His shoulders slumped in a lamentable sigh and he motioned for Sinbad to come closer. "Look at it, Sinbad."

He glanced at the view, hesitant. "Syracuse by night. Very..." he searched for the right word, "...pretty."

"Ah, yes," he said. "My life's work. The thing I treasured most in the world. It is 'very pretty' indeed, the result of a great many years of planning, tending and just stopping short of obsessing over it."

Sinbad frowned. "Something that can only be gotten with good ol' fashioned hard work?" No, please not the "you have to work hard to make it in the world" speech again. His eyes were just glazing over at the mere thought of having to endure that speech.

"No, it's not _that_ speech again,Sinbad. You won't have to daydream and pretend to listen as is your wont whenever the subject comes up."

"You, uh... noticed, huh?"

"Dear boy, I've known you since you were ten. How could I not notice?" The ghost of a smile that began to grow on Dymas's lips faded as quickly as it came. Dymas looked out at the view of Syracuse again. "You know, Sinbad, I used to think that Syracuse was the very reason I lived. It was my pride and joy, and as much as I didn't want to admit it then and don't much care to admit it now, sometimes I held it and its welfare higher than I held even the gods themselves," he said. "It was a mistake I find myself regretting every day. In my search for prestige and wealth, I lost sight of my other important duties, as a husband, a father, an in-law and now a grandfather. Seeing you here today after... after the incident," at this he looked to Sinbad with a fixed, solemn gaze, "well, it - "

"Whoa, Dymas. It's your birthday. You shouldn't be thinking this kind of stuff." Sinbad backed off. "You know, if my being here's a problem - "

"Sinbad, don't be deliberately obtuse." Dymas dismissed his thoughts with a careless wave. "What I eventually meant to say was, don't make the same mistake I did. Treasure your family, whatever happens and whatever you do." He motioned to the said family in the crowd of drunken stupor, two of the few of those yet sober. "You have... a beautiful wife," he said, his free hand gesturing to Marina (who still tried to control Spike's insatiable appetite), "and a fine young son", he glanced at Tee, who played happily with Gelasia. "None of you are immortal, and whether or not you will meet after death will never be certain." His voice, which until now had began to quaver somewhat, composed itself and became more serious in tone. "Moments you have with them are disappearing as we speak. Sometimes, usually after one realises he's wasted those moments, one doubts if even Chronos can retrieve them."

"Dymas, what happened to Proteus... it wasn't your fault."

Dymas raised a hand to silence him. "I know, but - "

"Grandpa-a-a-a-a!" a playful shriek broke the sombre mood of the balcony. Gelasia came bounding in, Tee on her heels. A bubble of laughter escaped her mouth, and she sought refuge behind her beloved grandfather. "Help me, Grandpa!"

Dymas smiled at this development. "Gelasia, what's all this?"

Tee stifled a grin, looking very much his mother's son.

Dymas shot a look of mock surprise at the boy whose grin had subsided in its intensity. "Tee," he said. "Do you have anything to do with this?"

Gelasia piped up from behind Dymas's mass of robes. Her voice came out muffled, but its shrillness overcompensated that, making what she had to say clear for anyone in a twelve foot radius, even if it wasn't imperative they hear it. "Grandpa, I told Tee that you got some very pretty things for your birthday but he didn't believe me because he said that the really pretty things were only for girls and then I told him that I wasn't lying so he said that we should play the liar game but I know that isn't a real game, so - "

"Breathe, Princess," Sinbad chuckled. "Breathe. Slow down. I'll make sure Tee doesn't chase you while you're explaining things."

Gelasia obeyed mid-monologue. She took in a deep gasp, looking for the entire world like a fish on land, gasping for breath. "... So- " _Gasp_. "I plaaaayed with hiiiim-" _Gasp._ "Aaaanywaaaay." _Gasp_. "Becaaaaauuuuse - "

Dymas looked down at the girl. "Normal speed, dear. Just speak clearly so we can understand you."

Gelasia frowned, looking very confused. "Because I didn't want him to feel bad because you know how sometimes if you don't play with him he'll act like Aunt Marina before her cycles and - "

Tee's face reddened. "I do not!"

Gelasia clutched tighter at Dymas's robes. "You do to!"

"Do not!"

"Do to!"

"Do not!"

"Do - "

"_Kids_!" Sinbad rubbed his temples. Sometimes when those two fought he could swear a tight metal band had wrapped itself around his head and squeezed until he found the pressure unbearable. "Jeez, I'm gettin' too old for this. Is it too much to ask for a little common courtesy when you two get together?" He blinked. "Did I just say that?"

The other three nodded.

He scowled. "Marina. There should be a law against that woman brainwashing me like that."

"What'd you say, Dad?"

He sighed. "I said that out loud, didn't I?"

The other three nodded.

He eyed his lovely wife. Marina stood before the Menolians, apologising for Spike slobbering all over their regalia. "Not a word." He finished off the rest of his wine.

"Grandpa," Gelasia chirped, "can we go downstairs and show Tee that you got lots and lots of pretty things and I wasn't lying?"

Dymas guffawed. "I assure you, Gelasia, those birthday presents and tributes I received from all those people were not just pretty - " He thought for a moment about what he just said, and smiled. "Well, actually, it looks as if you're right. Most of them _are_ just a bunch of pretty things."

She peeked out from behind Dymas to point her little tongue towards Tee. "See? Told you he got lots of pretty things." Hope shined in her eyes as she regarded her doting grandfather. "Grandpa, can we go see the pretty things?"

Sinbad fiddled with his empty goblet, his previous boredom and spite forgotten. "You know, Dymas, I _was_ curious about what else you got from your loving friends and subjects for your seventy-fifth birthday."

"_Sixty_-fifth birthday, Sinbad."

"That's a lie and you know it."

"Grandpa-a-a-a-a..."

Three pairs of eyes, two black and one blue, looked expectantly at Dymas, awaiting an answer. Dymas, who earlier had a flash of doubt and inner conflict dance across his face for about a second, shrugged and smiled at the three. "Oh, there shouldn't be any harm in it," he said. "I spend entirely too much time here at this blasted balcony anyway."

Gelasia bolted towards the treasure room. "Yes! Come on, Tee! I'll show you I wasn't lying!"

Tee beamed and darted after her. "Fine! Last one there's a cross between a Harpy and a Hydra!"

"Gelasia young lady, that is not the conduct of a proper prin - " Dymas sighed and gave up on preserving proper conduct. "Oh, she never listens to me when she's with that son of yours."

"Runs in the family, I guess." A bittersweet smile came unabated to Sinbad's lips at the comment he couldn't take back, and that he'd said without thinking too much about it. "Well. We'd better go make sure they don't get into too much trouble." He futilely started towards the children's' direction. "Kids, do _not_ get me into trouble with your mothers! Slow down or you'll have _me_ to deal with!"

Dymas shook his head and stayed awhile on the "blasted balcony". His eyes drifted towards the glowing tower he once thought served as the centre of his entire life, and he sighed. How skewed priorities would get by the expectations others had of you. He would've thought it funny if it weren't so piteous. "She truly is your daughter, son," he smiled, glancing up at the sky. With that he turned his back, and followed Sinbad's swift disappearance into the crowd, his embarrassingly ornate walking stick clicking on the stone floor.

**OOOoooOOOoooOOOooo**

The balcony now stood alone and empty, and overhead the darkening sky twinkled with the glow of its starlit raiment. Somewhere on Mount Olympus the gods sat around their replica of the world, bored, and they required entertainment for fear of the overwhelming tedium killing them. The pieces on the board representing the earth twitched, then moved. Two figures representing two people, one a peasant who fraternised with the elite, another a common thief who unknowingly even to himself had a blue-blooded history, drew ever closer. Noticing this development, a raven-haired goddess in an ethereal violet dress laughed and stroked her gravity-defying hair.

Eris sighed in pure bliss. "Finally." She twisted her aeriform frame around, reappeared whole and normal, and stretched out lazily on her daybed, watching the scene unfold in her mug of ambrosia (which had much better reception than the wooden board). "Something interesting to watch."

* * *

Whap!

A single well-placed blow to the head and the guard crumpled to the floor like a shoddy mast. No real harm done to him; it wasn't needed. Drakon only had to knock him out before someone like Kratos did something far worse.

Nikias took a final look around. "That's the last one."

"Good thing most of the guards are up there protecting the old coot," Lycou sneered.

"I'd like to remind you," Kleitos said, "that we still have work to do. Drakon," he looked at him, "do your job."

Drakon nodded and started his work on the enormous doors. Lycou had taught him how to pick locks back on the _Basilisk_, but he found the skill so easy to learn, something inside him made him think maybe someone else taught him that skill before. They came free almost instantly. He smiled. Thank the Gods he had that going for him, or the crew would've tossed him overboard a long while ago. He and the others opened the doors while Kleitos looked on, an arrogant air of authority about the first mate.

They gasped. Even Sophos, who had stayed in the pirate business so long no job could shove him out of his jaded state, had trouble keeping his eyes off the loot. Mounds upon piles upon heaps of precious jewels and gems and all other sorts of things of ridiculously high value. And all out there in the open where they just begged to be taken. They were the most beautiful things he'd ever seen.

"Forget retirement, Wolf," he breathed as the others scrambled towards the treasures. "We can buy countries with all this if we take it all for ourselves." No answer. "Wolf?"

A sniffling sound drifted from Lycou's direction.

"_Lycou?_"

Drakon spun to the direction of the sniffling. "Wolf," he raised an eyebrow at him, "are you crying?"

"No!" Lycou wiped the tears of joy he'd cried and plastered on a fake smile, showing off his wolfish canines. "No, I - I have a cold."

Drakon shook his head and peeked out the door. Coast clear. He gave the signal to those who lurked in the shadows. A rustle of leaves here, a clank of pots disturbed there, and the men emerged from their hiding places. Drakon snaked back inside the palace. A few seconds later the lock to the inner entrance came free, and Kratos's team burst in, glistening with newly-spilt blood.

As Hesiod closed the inner door, Drakon surveyed the roomful of riches, finding it harder this time to look at the treasures objectively. Only the most valuable of the gifts could be good targets, and even then there were the size, weight, time to transport the good back to the ship and other factors to consider. How in Zeus's name Kallikrates, the _Basilisk_'s chief appraiser, could do all that in his sleep, he had no idea. Drakon eyed among the countless treasures a golden basket of jewel-encrusted apples. Eris herself could've come up with something that could turn a man's heart as this. One of those apples would've put a bushel of her pitiful golden ones to shame. Drakon shook open the sack he carried into the palace, and reached for the fruit that sparkled despite the room's dim -

" - on, I dare ya. Steal the apple."

"I can't, Sinbad; it's against the law."

"What's wrong? Scared a guard might tell on Daddy Dearest and you'll get in trouble?"

A shake of the head. "No it's not that, it's - "

"It's what?" The two boys turned on the heels and looked up to see Dymas, who stood right behind them, looking ever the upright king of Syracuse. A wry smile crossed his face as he regarded the older of the two boys. He patted him on the head and turned his attentions to the little raven-haired boy. His literally royal blue eyes narrowed in contempt. "So Sinbad, exerting a bad influence on my son, eh?"

"Sir, if you're gonna make me feel bad, you should do it in words I can understand. Oh, and..." A blank look not unlike an ignorant puppy. "What does 'eeeexerrrting' mean?"

A hasty push aside. "I tried to talk him out of making me do it, Father, but you know - "

" - rak." Lycou shook his dazed friend, who, in his reverie, had neglected to notice that the precious apple he'd held fell to the ground and would've taken a great hit in value if it didn't fall on a pile of some exquisite silk. "Drak, wake up."

"Leave him," Kratos, reeking of blood, grunted, shoving one of the silk garments into his bag. "He's fried. You know how he gets when he has his little flashes."

"Kratos - "

"Captain."

"_Captain_," Lycou said through gritted teeth. "I can't just leave him; he's -"

"Oh, I almost forgot. Your _charge_." The way he said it always implied the two weren't just friends. "All right, if you insist. Go wake your sleeping beauty," he said. "Just remember to do your job." His sneer widened and he stalked off to prove himself worthy of his self-appointed title of the _Basilisk's _official equal opportunity annoyer.

Lycou snarled. "Aye, Cap'n."

He shook him again. "Drak." Nothing. He gave Drakon's shoulder a hard shove. "Drakon, you little Narcissus, snap _out_ of it."

Drakon's clouded eyes cleared to a bright ultramarine, and he jerked back into reality. Lycou could see his mouth moving under the mask, but try as he might, no words escaped, not even an utter or a strangled cry. He looked as if he'd regressed to how he was when they first found him, a temporary mute and hopeless invalid, something they thought his injuries caused.

"I - I - This... This p - place... The... flashes..." Lycou could hear him wince.

"Hey, relax, buddy." Lycou put a hand on his shoulder, something he used to calm Drak down whenever he'd have his "little flashes" and get all tongue-tied. He'd needed to do that a lot more since they first mentioned the Syracuse heist. The stress Kratos put on the both of them and the rest of the crew didn't help, either.

"But... it's... f-familiar... some-somehow..."

"Familiarity's better than nothing, Drak," he said. "You just get back to work and don't think about it, all right?"

Drakon, hesitant, nodded. He picked up a jewelled apple, and dropped it into his bag.

* * *

Torchlight danced across the grand hallways, glinting off the many precious statues and other objects of art and flickering on the columns that mirrored Atlas as they stood proudly between the floor and the ceiling. The light pitter-patter of playful footfalls and giggles of two happy children broke the monotonous silence of the room, and two older voices that hushed them followed wearily behind. 

"No fair, Gel! You're only faster 'cause the dress lets you move more!"

"Who says I'm the only one of us two who's wearing a dress?"

"What do you - hey!"

A yip of laughter. "Took you long enough to figure it out!"

"It won't take me nearly as long to catch up to you!"

"We'll see about that!"

"Kids!" Sinbad quickened his pace from a fast stride to a slight jog. "Slow _down_! I'm not telling you again!" He wiped the few beads of sweat off his brow. "Jeez, have they always been this hyper or am I just gettin' soft?"

"Maybe they just want to be with each other, away from the tiring voices of their elders." The faint rhythmic clicking of Dymas's walking stick on the stone floor grew in volume as he hobbled closer. "But in reference to your question, personally I think it's both."

"_Very_ funny, Dymas." He rested a while, allowing Dymas to catch up. He frowned at the unusual slowness of the older man's gait. "Hey, d'you need any help?"

The rhythmic clicking of Dymas's walking stick sped up slightly. "Don't make such a fuss. I'm fi - " He grimaced and leaned against his walking stick, painfully drawing in a breath.

"Dymas?" Sinbad started towards the older man. "Are you - ?"

"I'm all right, Sinbad." With noticable effort he drew himself up and continued walking. "No need to worry. I am not - "

" - An invalid," Sinbad finished for him. "Yeah, I get it."

The light pitter-patter of playful footfalls stopped dead, and just as suddenly so did the laughter and playful banter. Tee and Gelasia stood frozen a few paces away from the treasure room's entrance. A few stammers and murmurs from the two, and Sinbad could distinctly hear a muffled scream, possibly Gelasia's muffled by Tee's rough sailor hands.

Dymas beamed; obviously he was older than he thought if he didn't just notice their strange behaviour. "Ah. Only _after_ realising they need me to access the treasure room do they stop their tomfoolery. Kids. They're all the same."

Sinbad frowned "Strange." His pace quickened again this time, though the sense of forboding that accompanied his increase of speed this time around did little to calm his nerves. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

"Sinbad, what are you - ? "

He caught up to them a few seconds later. Gelasia cried against Tee's shoulder while the elder patted her back awkwardly, eyes fixed against what lay before him. Upon hearing Sinbad's hurried footfalls she bolted towards her pseudo-uncle and promptly buried her face in his increasingly uncomfortable finery, sobbing with abandon. "Hey there, Princess, what's - " Unconsciously, he looked up to see what they were looking at.

Guards. At least ten of them sprawled on the floor drenched in their own blood, blood just starting to darken from red to brown and beginning to harden into dried brown rivers and puddles. Haunted eyes stared up into nothing; those who still _had_ eyes anyway. One of them lay on his side, his own sword sticking out of his right eye. Another guard had literally spilled his guts, courtesy of an expertly-sliced slit running across his waist. Many more had gaping valleys cut into their necks - looked like the thieves started getting a bit impatient when it came to them - into which one could see a twisted cross-section what a neck looked like on the inside.

" - Wrong." Sinbad held Gelasia closer to him. She didn't need to see this. Not this young. No not ever. She gripped onto his tunic so hard he could feel the fabric beginning to tear.

The clicking of Dymas's walking stick grew closer, and Gelasia left Sinbad in favour of the refuge her grandfather offered. Dymas, puzzled, looked up and saw what everyone else was looking at. His already pale face blanched. "Dear gods."

Sinbad collected himself. "Proteus," he said to Tee, who instantly turned around to face him, knowing the gravity of the use of his full name. "Listen to me. You get Gelasia and go to the crew, the ones who aren't drunk. Tell them there's an emergency. Tell them I say to come here right away with all our weapons and I'm gonna be here waiting for them and watching for any more trouble. Then you two go to your mothers and stay somewhere safe with them until we fix this. Do you understand?"

Tee hesitated. "But - "

"Do you _understand_?"

"Dad..." Tee bit onto his lower lip, "will you be okay?"

Sinbad looked again at the already-festering scene of carnage. "Believe me, I've seen worse." He turned back to his son, inadvertently putting on his best "father" voice. "Now you two go, and don't wander off this time."

Tee hesitated.

"_Now_, Proteus."

He grabbed her hand, and they went.

He looked to Dymas, pulling out a sword sticking out of a guard's chest and another that fell on the floor. "Dymas, I think you'd be a heck of a lot safer away from here."

"Of course." He started back towards the party. "I'm sending over what guards I have on hand. Somehow I doubt your crew can handle this by themselves."

"Thanks, sir." He tried out the feel of the new swords, see if they swung right, if he could stand a chance with them. "I'll need all the help I can get."

The usual clicking of Dymas's walking stick became replaced by a _click, slide, click, slide_ as he hobbled back to follow the kids, the torchlight that danced across the grand hallways dancing across his ailing form. Sinbad watched him walk off and left him alone, a shiver running through his spine. Maybe the presence of so many slaughtered guards had something to do with it. Maybe he sensed that something he didn't expect was going to happen. Either way, he'd have to wait awhile for those select few from the _Chimera_ still sober to arrive.

He was going to have to watch, and wait.


End file.
